


Goodbye, I'll See You Soon

by KiwiBerry



Series: We are here (or so we tell ourselves). [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, I'll take bits and pieces but I don't even think Blizzard knows what it's doing anymore, M/M, Multi, Parallel Relationships, apparently I can only write fics from Hanzo's perspective, at this point I'm not even trying to follow the Overwatch timeline, basically the sequel to Hello Here I Am we all deserved, but like don't panic becuase it'll have a good ending, just lots of angst and crying before we get there, lots of fighting, whatever the term is for a slow burn that starts with them together and ends with them apart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-22 07:01:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11962167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiwiBerry/pseuds/KiwiBerry
Summary: What do you do when the past catches up to the present?Or: How sometimes we have to fall apart to truly fix the broken pieces.





	1. Chapter 1

Hanzo despised waiting. He was raised to act first, to put himself on the front line and handle what followed swiftly and decisively. The Shimada family had not obtained their ruthless efficiency through tact alone and Hanzo felt a sense of apprehension at allowing others to take the burden from his own hands. But he was part of a team now, and that meant understanding when to fall back and wait. 

The mission was to be quick. In and out within an evening. Angela had taken Genji, Lena and McCree with her. It was a small, trusted group and Hanzo remained firm in his faith in them. But as the hours grew longer and the day was almost at end, he become hesitant, doubtful. 

He’d found comfort in Mae’s presence, watching her work through the evening. She’d offered him snacks and a mug of tea upon his arrival, both of which he was grateful for. The silence that passed between them in the next few hours was a pleasant one, and when it was finally interrupted by a sudden knock on the door, the two had both looked up in surprise.

“Is anybody in there?” came a voice, and Hanzo recognized it as Lena’s. 

He answered eagerly, waving Mei back to her work. Lena’s arrival meant the mission had come to end, and with it the other’s return. 

Lena’s face was not a pleasant one. She looked distraught, nervous about something as her gaze kept roaming from Hanzo’s face. “There you are, love. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“Is everything alright?” Hanzo asked. Mei had moved to his side, intrigued by the exchange.

“Someone’s not hurt, are they?” she asked, placing a hand on Hanzo’s arm. Hanzo sometimes wondered when he’d become so easy to read.

“For the most part, yeah,” Lena said, letting Hanzo breathe a bit easier. “What do you know about the late Commander Morrison?”

Hanzo allowed his surprise to show. “Only what Jesse has been willing to share with me. Which is very little.” 

Lena huffed, moving aside. It was only now he could see the fatigue in her body, her normal lightness weighed down by something unseen. “I’ll fill you in on the way, alright?”

“Very well,” Hanzo replied after a moment. He turned toward Mei expectantly, but she shook her head. 

“I don’t believe I’ll be very helpful in this situation. You go on ahead, and we’ll talk later?” She pushed Hanzo a bit forward as she spoke, smiling to show no feelings were hurt. “Go.”

Hanzo did as he was told, adding in an appreciative nod before following Lena out.

 

As they walked, Lena saw fit to explain as much as she could in the few minutes it took to walk to the infirmary. What Hanzo discovered was that Jack had been the previous and only Commander of Overwatch, a subject in an experimental super soldier program before that, and was presumed dead after an unexplained explosion inside Overwatch’s Swiss headquarters. Reyes, McCree’s Blackwatch Commander, had been presumed dead as well (which they both now knew was false). Over the years, the world forgot about Morrison and Overwatch, and it was only with the rise of the vigilante “Soldier: 76” that Morrison’s name had begun to pop up again among various news sources and blogs. This seemed to prompt mass investigations into the disbandment of Overwatch so many years ago. 

“Winston told me there were a lot of theories popping up all around the world. Some said our team had staged the whole thing, to make the public feel sorry for us. Others thought it was one big government conspiracy, leaving the people unprotected. But mostly, it seemed like a lot of people genuinely believed that Jack had come back from the dead,” Lena said. Her voice was somber then, as if finally letting the weight of those rumors wash over her.

“And you?” Hanzo asked, letting his gaze fall to the woman only a moment. 

Lena seemed to hesitate. “Well, it doesn’t really matter now, does it? Seeing as I sat next to him on the ride back, and all.” 

Before Hanzo could inquire further, two voices arose, arguing and loud enough to hear from where they stood. He recognized the louder of the voices as Jesse’s. 

“They’ve been in there since we got back. Genji’s fine, but Lucio’s taking care of him. Got too much blood in his gears carrying Jack to the jet,” Lena explained. 

She raised a hand to knock, having enough sense not to barge in, but Hanzo stopped her. 

“Perhaps it would be best if we allowed them to come to us,” he suggested, even though he himself was more than eager to rush inside. He hadn’t known McCree very long, but he’d caught glimpses of the man’s temper. He could be stubborn at best and insufferable at his worst, or so he’d been told, and, if Angela’s raised voice was any indication, he assumed it was currently the latter. “I will head back to Jesse’s room. If he wishes to talk, I will be there. If not…”

Lena seemed to understand. While her knowledge of the situation was helpful, there were some things only McCree could explain. “Right. I’ll, uh, go check on the others. Make sure Winston gets the mission report since Ang seems a bit tied up at the moment.” 

If Lena was anything, she was dutiful and dedicated to her team. Hanzo admired that in her. He wished her luck and the two went their separate ways. 

 

Hanzo felt it would have been rude to enter the room without McCree, having never done so before. He’d never been one to deny Hanzo entrance, suggesting almost every night that he stay over, just for a bit. Hanzo had never agreed, too unsure of this thing between them to cross that line. He had learned early on to be suspicious of everyone, but found his hesitation with McCree was out of a genuine desire to take care of the thing growing between them. He wished for their relationship to evolve slowly and with caution, for both their sakes, and if that meant disappointing McCree some nights then so be it. 

When McCree had finally appeared, Hanzo had not had long to wait. He’d been distracted enough with his own thoughts to pass the time. 

“You didn’t have to wait up,” McCree said, a weariness to his voice. If he was surprised to see Hanzo, he didn’t show it.

Hanzo surveyed him a moment, noticing the tie held crumpled in McCree’s left hand and the spot of crimson near his collar. Rather than mention it, he settled on the obvious. “You are still in the suit.”

McCree only waved him off. “You comin’ in too?” The invitation was accompanied by an obviously forced smile, and Hanzo took the hand offered his way. 

When the door closed behind them, they were greeted with a heavy darkness. McCree bypassed the overhead light for a direct path to the bedroom, leaving Hanzo behind as he walked. 

Hanzo found the darkness of the apartment unnerving, especially alone, and turned on a small lamp by the couch. It illuminated the area enough for him to be able to at least see the path to McCree’s room. He leaned against the doorway as he listened to McCree stumble around the room, presumably undressing. When he grew weary of the act, he spoke. 

“I presume you have a lamp,” Hanzo said, leaving the statement open ended enough for McCree to get the hint. For a moment, he thought he heard McCree repeating his words mockingly in the few moments it took to find said lamp and turn it on. The light was dull, the bulb obviously nearing its end, but it sufficed and cast the room in shadows. 

“Happy?” McCree asked. He’d sat down on his bed, pulling off his shoes. He’d already discarded his jacket and shirt, belt undone and loose around his waist. When the shoes were done, he began sliding off his pants. A heavy fatigue seemed to make the act more difficult than it should have been. 

“How was the mission?” Hanzo said eventually, growing tired of the silence between them. He had wished for McCree to speak first, but the man seemed to be content in his silent undressing.

"You know damn well how it went,” McCree sighed, a gruffness to his voice that Hanzo knew not to take offense to. 

Hanzo watched McCree a moment, the way he sat hunched forward with his head hung low. The man was completely undressed, in nothing more than his boxers, and Hanzo mentally noted that this was the first time he’d seen McCree exposed like this. It sent a small heat to his skin at the thought, but he quickly shook it away; now was not the time.  
When McCree didn’t move, Hanzo took a seat beside him. He was unprepared for McCree to instantly lean into him, face burying in his shoulder. 

“I don’t want to talk about it. Not right now,” he said quietly. 

Hanzo felt a flash of frustration at the words, but silenced it with an overwhelming concern for McCree. He placed a hand upon the others head, attempting to comfort. “We will talk when you are ready.”

“It’s just so--” McCree seemed to be searching for the right word, but only found another sigh. “It’s terrifying.” He laughed, hollow and empty. “And I’m so fucking scared of what’s gonna come next.” The confession surprised Hanzo, and he was at a loss of what to say. So he allowed McCree to hold on to him a bit longer, extend his comfort. 

It seemed to placate as McCree pulled away after a long silence and finally looked at Hanzo. “Will you stay?”

Hanzo did not reply. He was hesitant to do so when McCree was so distraught. He did not know if he would be able to offer the comfort he needed. 

But McCree’s grip on his arm said otherwise. In the silence, he moved his hand down, gripping Hanzo’s tightly. “Just for tonight, alright?”

McCree’s gaze was so honest, more vulnerable than the day he’d broken down after finding out Gabriel Reyes was alive, and Hanzo found he could not refuse. He gripped McCree’s hand back just as tight. “For tonight,” he said firmly, and McCree seemed grateful. 

That night they slept facing away from each other, the knowledge of each other’s presence only known by a shift in the bed, the brush of fabric against skin. For a moment, Hanzo had expected McCree to crowd into his space, press into him and demand comfort, but it never came. Hanzo wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or hurt by that. 

 

When Hanzo awoke, he awoke with a start, blinking back sleep as he took in his surroundings. They were unfamiliar at a glance and for a moment he panicked, and attempted to sit upright. However, he was pinned down by an arm across his chest, a weight on his shoulder, but before he could react the grip loosened. 

McCree rolled over, turning away from Hanzo. “Sorry,” he muttered, seeming half-asleep as he pulled the covers up over his shoulders. 

Hanzo watched him a moment before finally sitting up in bed. He squashed down the desire to reach out and comfort, reasoning that now was not the time to push their boundaries any farther. McCree was feeling too much, thinking thoughts Hanzo would never know, and he knew to keep is distance. No need to complicate the situation anymore.  
He sat along the edge of the bed a moment, rubbing his eyes and stifling a yawn. He’d let his hair down to sleep, the long strands brushing against his face. He took a moment to tie it back up. 

Hanzo had been dressed rather casually the night before, a simple shirt and sweatpants McCree had gifted him when he’d explained that he did not own a pair. He had been hesitant to accept but found them rather comfortable. He wore them whenever possible. 

Turning back to McCree, the man seemed intent on continuing to sleep. So Hanzo allowed him, leaving as quietly as he could. 

 

Hanzo passed no one on his way to his own room, a part of him grateful for it. The silence of early morning was a welcome sound, one he had grown used to over the years. When he entered his own room it was dark, but a quick press of the lights quickly bathed it in a soft fluorescent glow. 

He began to dress for the day. As he did, he decided to skip his morning training. He hadn’t been keeping up with it the last few weeks anyway. For some reason, sleep had come easier to him now and that meant longer hours spent in peaceful slumber rather than gnawing insomnia. He’d even allowed himself to “sleep in” on the off day. 

Instead, he picked up a book he’d been reading the day before. It wasn’t very impressive, an old physical copy he’d been given by Winston. The scientist had seemed to notice his struggle with the holopads, having not used one in so long, and his preference for having something physical in his hands. Most of what he’d read growing up had been passed down through his family, only a few of the oldest books being translated into digital copies for preservation. 

The book was a collection of essays and poems by an author long forgotten, yet Hanzo found the ideas presented within rather intriguing. They ranged from politics to war, to love and community ideals. The writing wasn’t very impressive, but it captured his attention enough to pass the time. 

It was only when he’d finished an essay on the human psyche during times of war that he’d found himself growing hungry. The book had left him more confused than enlightened, and he wondered if perhaps it was more outdated than he thought. There was no mention of the psychology research conducted on omnics during the last few decades, and for a moment he entertained asking his brother. He immediately shook off the idea and made his way to the kitchen instead. 

 

Rather than the empty room he was expecting to find, Lucio and Hana were already there. They were sitting side by side, leaning over a holopad that seemed to be playing some kind of video. Hana was the first to look up, offering him a small nod in greeting. 

“Good morning,” Hanzo said in reply. He went about procuring a small bowl of cereal as he did not feel like cooking like two had done. There were clattered utensils and dirty bowls on the counter, a large box of pancake mix laid on its side. 

When he finally sat down, they both looked up, waiting. “Is there something I can help you two with?” Hanzo asked after a long silence. Lucio turned the holopad his way. 

“We’re kinda on the news.” Lucio played the video they’d been watching and, it must have been muted earlier, a large sound like an explosion erupted from the screen. It was followed by police sirens as a bright blue flash appeared in the distance. He recognized it as Lena. 

“There are more videos. Anyone with a phone was able to catch at least a few seconds,” Hana said. 

“What happened?” Hanzo had found little explanation from McCree the night before, and the two seemed to look at each other in disbelief. 

“You mean Jesse didn’t tell you?” Lucio asked, incredulous as he pulled the holopad back. 

“No.”

Hana leaned forward in her seat at the admission, arms crossed on the table. “Well, everything went to shit, that’s what happened. Turns out we weren’t the only ones with eyes on our target. Ang and the others were ambushed the moment the guy hit the floor. They must have known we were coming. This is why I told them not to send in McCree. He stands out too much.”

Lucio ignored her comment. “Local and national news sources are proclaiming the reinstatement of Overwatch. Some are happy, but others are…less than excited. A lot of articles are mentioning Blackwatch. I don’t know much about them, but they’re kinda being painted as a sanctioned extremist group given free reign under the Overwatch mantle.” 

Hanzo did not hide his curiosity, having only heard the team name in passing during discussions with McCree. “They believe we are dangerous?”

Lucio shrugged. “We did just kill a guy.” He paused a moment, scrolling through his holopad. “Says here he was leading an omnic research division for the government. Most sources are painting him as a generous guy, donating to charities, speaking at community events--”

“None of that necessarily makes him a good person,” Hana defended. “People like that lie all the time, put up a good front for the public. I’m sure there was a reason--”  
“That we needed to shoot a man in his hotel room?” 

Hana hesitated, frustration building, and glanced toward Hanzo. “I wasn’t part of the mission, so I don’t know the details. But we don’t just kill people for no reason! We’re Overwatch. We protect people.”

“Even if that means killing others? Blackwatch apparently did it before. Who’s to say we’re any better now?” Lucio’s expression betrayed the calm in his voice. He was angry, and rightfully so. Hanzo knew the man had a past with government organizations, corporations and sponsors that grew too greedy for their own good. It made sense he’d be wary of the team’s motives, unwilling to become a part of the thing he hated most.

Hana opened her mouth to argue, but closed it as she looked toward the doorway. Hanzo turned, following her gaze. McCree stood there, dressed in his normal attire and hat pushed low on his head. He watched Hanzo from beneath the brim. 

“Can I talk to you a moment?” McCree looked to Hana and Lucio pointedly. They didn’t move. “Alone?”

The two seemed to take the hint, quickly tossing their dishes on the counter before leaving the room. Hanzo could hear them continuing their rather heated conversation the moment they passed McCree. 

Hanzo did not wait for McCree to enter before turning back around in his seat. He stared into his cereal, finding himself no longer hungry, and moved to dispose of it in the sink. He heard rather than saw McCree move toward him, caught the man out of the corner of his eye only when he leaned himself against the counter. 

“We weren’t killers,” McCree huffed, not looking at Hanzo. “We got our hands dirty when Overwatch wouldn’t, and saved a lot of people because of it. I won’t ever apologize for that.” 

Hanzo was surprised by the defense, having found no need for one. McCree should have known that he, of all people, was the last person he needed to defend his actions to. “And you do not have to.” 

McCree looked at him then, the anger seeming to dissipate for a moment. It morphed quickly into guilt. “I’m sorry about last night.”

Hanzo shook his head. “There is no need to apologize.”

“You didn’t have to stay,” McCree continued, turning into Hanzo’s space. 

Hanzo held his gaze. “I wanted to.” A moment seemed to pass between the two of them, eyes searching each other’s, before McCree’s mouth twitched into a teasing smile.  
“You know you’re welcome in my room whenever you please,” he said, voice low and inviting. 

Hanzo let out a sigh, and turned away. “Hana was telling me the mission went well. He let his gaze scan the room, looking anywhere but at McCree. He noticed Lucio had left his holopad on the table. 

McCree’s expression turned sour at the mention of the mission, and he remained silent. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet and slow. “After the explosion, Ang wasn’t doing great. She kinda distanced herself from us all, losing herself in her work. I always assumed she just felt guilty, was looking for a way to cope, but then a few months later, she calls me. Tells me she’s been looking into the incident in Switzerland, collecting names and information I’ll never know how she got ahold of. It made sense at the time, it had been her home after all. All her work, gone up in flames.” 

He paused, as if giving time for Hanzo to take it all in. “Every so often she would send me a list of names or news articles. They never really led to anything, but it seemed to make her feel better so I kept reading up, answering her frenzied calls and half-finished emails. But after a while, it stopped. No calls. No emails. Nothing. I guess I could have looked into it, called her myself, but I…” A pause, heavy and silent. “About a week ago she told me she’d received an email with a list of coordinates. She found out about some tech conference being held, found the location, and they matched. The main speaker was someone who’d been part of the creation of the Omniums. The places they built the omnics. We only wanted to get information out of him, not kill him.”

Hanzo thought for a moment, attempting to ground himself in McCree’s story. It wasn’t inconceivable that older members of the team might be looking into Overwatch’s disbandment, but if someone was sending them information? Hanzo wanted to press the matter further, but looking at McCree’s face told him that now was not the time. So he asked a different question. “You did not kill him?”

“No,” McCree said firmly. “I raised my gun at him, sure, but before I could say anything he got a bullet to the chest.” 

Hanzo met McCree’s gaze. “And Morrison?”

McCree seemed to tense at the name, but he didn’t shy away. “Found his ass on a rooftop nearby. Guess he got the same coordinates.” 

Hanzo doubted that. “Where is he now?”

McCree shrugged. “With Ang probably. He was still alive last I saw him.” 

Hanzo reached out a hand, gripping McCree’s arm. _I’m scared of what comes next…_

“Jesse.”

McCree looked at him with tired eyes. “Guess Death ain’t a fan over Overwatch’s either.” He left out a laugh that sounded more like a sigh, and moved away from Hanzo’s touch. “I’m gonna head to the training arena’s. Wanna come with?” 

Hanzo wanted to reach out again, push past McCree’s flimsy walls and excuses, and make him talk about whatever was going on in his head. But a moment’s hesitation had Hanzo doubting his right to ask that. McCree’s thoughts were his own, and Hanzo found he had no right to them. So he only nodded, and followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So hey
> 
> If you read Hello, Here I Am and found the "sequel" While You Were Away you're probably confused. So enjoy this Q&A with questions I'm sure you're asking:
> 
> "But you already started a sequel. You can't have two sequels!!"
> 
> Yes, actually, I can. As much as I love my angsty overwatch dads, I've gotten a lot of slack on the internet for shipping them. I won't go into specifics, but I find it really hard to write them at this point. So in order to remedy this, I'm switching perspectives in the hopes that I can finish the story and still do the dads justice, just from a secondary point of view. 
> 
> "But what will happen to While You Were Away? Are you just gonna leave it unfinished???"
> 
> For now, yes. It will remain for those who enjoyed it and, who knows, maybe I'll come back to it. Goodbye, I'll See You Soon is going to be focusing on McCree and Hanzo within Gabe and Jack's story. So we won't get to see everything, and maybe one day I'll show you guys what happened through their eyes instead. 
> 
> "What if you abandon this fic as well? What if nothing ever gets finished?"
> 
> Well, there's always the possibility. But this whole story has been eating me up inside the past few months and I need to get it out, both for my sake as well as everyone else's. 85% of it is written out already, so I'm sticking myself to weekly chapter updates. So all I guess I can say is sit down, buckle up, and let's hope we can make it to the end without crashing. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's read any part of this weird series. It's a mess, but fun as heck to write.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If this chapter feels familiar, you've probably read While You Were Away. Bear with me please.

Jack Morrison was not at all what Hanzo had imagined. For one, he was shorter. Watching him walk with Angela, almost leaning forward to speak, he noticed the genuinely content expression on the man’s face. It seemed to contrast the large scar that traveled from temple to chin, bridging across the nose.

Angela was the first to speak. “How is he?”

Hanzo returned his gaze to McCree. “He will be fine.” He glanced up at the arena’s timer, counting down, and turned away before it hit zero. 

Angela glanced behind him, lips pressed together. “Hanzo, this is Jack. Jack, this is Genji’s brother, Hanzo.” She let the implication lay between them, heavy for only a moment. 

Jack reached out a hand, a half-smile on his face. “Nice to meet you.” 

Hanzo found the kindness odd, but accepted it. “I have heard much about you, Jack Morrison.” 

“Good things I hope?” The humor in Jack’s voice threw Hanzo even more. Before he could follow the thought, he heard McCree powering down the arena and turned. 

“What’s the matter, darlin’? You got that crease in your brow that means you’re thinkin’ too much.” McCree slid easily into Hanzo’s space, and leaned against him, one elbow propped on his shoulder. “Oh. Well, hello there. Made it through the night, did ya? Angie’s just too damn good at her job, ain’t she?”

“Jesse, please,” Angela said, attempting to diffuse the inevitable fight. “We can be civil about this. And he might be able to help us get him back.”

“Get who back?” Jack asked, and Angela seemed intent on ignoring the question. But Hanzo looked toward McCree who’s eyes flashed fierce, ready for a fight.

“Guess, Ang ain’t told you everything after all,” he said, tipping his hat back. “Seems you’re not the only one who enjoys coming back from the dead.”

Angela jumped in then, speaking to Jack in a low, calming voice, but Hanzo could see the confusion in his eyes quickly turn to frustration, an anger that seemed to fall in McCree’s general direction. 

Hanzo hadn’t known that Jack was unaware of Gabriel Reyes reappearance, but that didn’t seem to faze McCree as he continued on, feeding that anger. 

“This is probably great news to you. Gabe, the bad guy. You, still the hero. It’s what you always wanted, right? You always did think you were better than him, better than all of us. Ever since you got that goddamn promotion--”

The immediate physical reaction had been alarming. McCree hit the ground hard, falling back from the force of Jack’s fist. Hanzo turned to offer assistance, but could only stare as McCree sat himself up with a laugh, hollow and low, and grinned.

“Should’ve known better than to talk bad about the good ol’ commander like that, right?” he said, defiance flashing in his eyes, as if they’d done this before. “Gabe always said me runnin’ my mouth would get me hurt.”

The comment seemed to do the opposite of McCree’s intention, the mention of Gabriel causing to go quiet before turning to leave. Angela hurried after him, calling his name.

Hanzo turned his gaze back to McCree, and offered a hand. “You knew he would hit you.”

McCree’s satisfied expression fell at his words, but he accepted the help up anyway. “Most wouldn’t know it, but Gabe was always the reasonable one.” He pressed a few fingers to his jaw, prodding at the pain. “Damn. Even at his age, his punches still hurt like hell.”

Hanzo let the implication of the statement slide. He reached toward McCree’s face, tilting it as gently as he could. “It will bruise. Ice will help the swelling.”

McCree pushed his hand away. “I don’t need any damn ice.”

Hanzo knew he was just being stubborn, Jack’s appearance fueling the fire beneath his skin. So he grabbed McCree by the hand, pulling him toward the door. 

 

When they reached the infirmary, it was empty much to Hanzo’s relief. Neither Angela nor Lucio were rummaging through cabinets or experimenting with their equipment, so he sat McCree down and began searching for an ice pack. He found a drawer full and quickly bent one in two, cracking the pack and feeling the plastic begin to cool. 

“Here,” Hanzo said, handing the pack to McCree. He took it, pressing it against his face. 

“Thanks,” McCree said, pressing the cool pack to his face. Hanzo leaned against the nearest counter, waiting with arms crossed. “What? Are you gonna lecture me about how I shouldn’t fight with the others kids? Cause you can save it, I’ve heard it before.”

Hanzo had no doubt about that. “He is… not how I imagined.”

That seemed to sober McCree. “Who Jack? What? You wanna take his side now? Figures, everyone was always drawn to his boy scout charm.”

“I only want you to talk to me,” Hanzo confessed, concerned by the deflated anger in McCree’s voice. As if Hanzo would not be the first to take Morrison’s side over his. “There is something bothering you.”

McCree chuckled. “Yeah. His name’s Jack Morrison.”

“That is not what I meant.” 

McCree went quiet, removing the ice pack from his face. “Honestly, it’s nothing you need to concern yourself with. I’ve just got a lot on my mind with everything going on.”

Hanzo took a moment to cross the space between them, and sit beside McCree. “I know. But I wish you would share those thoughts with me.”

McCree lowered his head, hiding himself from Hanzo. “Maybe you could ask Jack. Sure he’d love to tell his side of things.” 

“Jesse.” Hanzo’s voice faltered only slightly, hiding the hurt he felt at the other’s annoyed tone.

McCree seemed to realize his mistake, and tried again. “Sorry.” He nudged Hanzo with his shoulder, leaning into his space. “I’m a right mess, ain’t I?” 

“Your words,” Hanzo smirked, and the grin that earned him felt like an accomplishment. 

McCree moved forward then, closing the space between them, and Hanzo let out an affectionate sigh as he allowed the man to kiss him. It was only a quick kiss, a gentle press against Hanzo’s own mouth, McCree’s tongue ghosting over his lips before pulling away. It almost felt like a reassurance, and Hanzo latched on to it almost desperately. 

But when McCree tried to move in again, Hanzo moved to the side and slid a hand over top of his jaw, pressing hard. 

McCree winced at the pain. “Aw, darlin’, that hurts,” he complained, pulling away. 

Hanzo let him. “It will hurt more if you do not keep ice on it.”

McCree replaced the pack with a huff, and Hanzo shook his head at the childish pout on his face. The door to the infirmary opened then, and Lena stood with a hand raised in greeting. 

“I was told I might find you here.” She stepped into the room, and gestured to McCree’s face. “Are you alright?”

McCree waved her off, removing the ice pack to prod at his cheek and jaw. Hanzo could see the start of a bruise forming. “For the most part. What’s wrong?”

“It seems we have a bit of a situation. Talon related,” Lena explained. “Winston wants you both to come to the lab.”

McCree looked to Hanzo. With a nod they both stood, McCree still holding the ice pack, and followed Lena out. 

 

Winston’s lab was quiet, save for the low hum of electricity and muffled voices overhead. They followed Lena up the stairs to find Angela and Winston amongst various holoscreens, Genji off to the side. He was dressed casually, but any surprise Hanzo had at the notice was extinguished by the surgical mask tied neatly over the lower half of his face. Only the brown of his brother’s eyes could be seen, underlined by two dark, bruising crescents. 

Angela turned toward them, expression serious. “We’ve got a problem.”

McCree scoffed. “Yeah, I figured as much.” He glanced across a few of the screens, scanning for information. “Talon again?”

“Appears that way. Winston’s got a live feed not far north from here. A cargo ship at a local dock, abandoned as far as we can tell.”

“And what’s on the ship?”

Winston answered this time. “It’s unclear at the moment. But it’s Talon, so it can’t be good.” He removed his glasses a moment, rubbing at his eyes. “Angela and I are in agreement. We’re sending you and Genji in to gather information. Find out what they’re loading and where it’s going. After that…” 

“After that, we’ll send in a follow up team, see if we can’t stop them before whatever it is leaves that dock,” Angela finished for him. Her gaze flickered back to one of the screens, a blurred feed of workers carting large shipping crates from out of the warehouse. 

Genji came to McCree’s side, nodding in understanding. When their eyes met, they both smiled and Hanzo made himself look at one of the holoscreens instead.

“I should go with them,” he said suddenly, feeling the need to speak up. “I can provide cover if--”

“That won’t be necessary,” Angela said before he could finish. “The mission priority is stealth. If we lose that, we pull back. Besides, McCree and Genji work well together. They’ve done this before.” She looked Hanzo up and down a moment; if she noticed his discomfort she didn’t show it. 

Hanzo still felt the urge to argue, to place himself on equal ground with Genji and McCree. “I am aware. However, we do not know for certain their sniper is not already there. It would be better if I—“

This time it was McCree who interrupted him, one hand heavy on his shoulder. “We’ll be fine. Me and Genji can take care of ourselves. We’ve been doing this a lot longer than you have.”

McCree’s words stung, conjuring up a past Hanzo did not know, and pulled away. “I am not doubting your abilities. I am simply suggesting--”

“Hanzo” McCree said, voice suddenly harsh and final. “Just let it go.” Before Hanzo could think of a response, his attention shifted to Angela, silencing any further arguments. “Anything else we need to know before we head out?”

Angela looked between the two of them a moment. “Other than to stay safe, no. Just be careful. If you spot any enhanced members, let us know. And make sure you find out when and where that ship’s heading.”

McCree huffed. “Ay ay, Captain.” He gave a mock salute before turning to Genji. “We better get you suited up.” 

Genji's gaze flickered towards his brother, but anything he had wished to say was silenced by McCree pushing him along.

Hanzo watched the two of them leave, feeling his voice catch in his throat, unable to call out to McCree, to ask him why he’d silenced him like that. But they were long gone before he could find his voice, and he barely waved in Angela and Winston’s direction before leaving, feeling dejected. It seemed talking, once again, would have to wait. 

 

Hanzo did not want to admit how troubled he still felt by McCree’s earlier dismissal, and sought to occupy his time by training. It had become a habit of his to train when his mind was restless, but found now it did little to soothe his thoughts. So he’d headed back to his room, hoping to find some peace there, but found himself running into Fareeha instead.

“Ah, I am sorry. I did not see you,” he apologized, bowing his head. He made to move past her once she had assured him she was alright.

But a hand reached out and stopped him, turning him toward Fareeha. She studied his face a moment, displeased. “Can I show you something?” 

Hanzo hesitated. “I..I do not see why not.”

Fareeha took his answer in stride, and pulled him along with a strength that surprised him. 

They ended up in a section of the base he’d never ventured to, too far away from his own quarters to warrant exploring. They eventually stopped in front of a door which slid open with a press of Fareeha’s hand. 

Fareeha entered freely and turned when Hanzo hesitated at the door. “Don’t worry. I give you permission.” There was a hint of a smile in her words, and Hanzo let out a shaky breath. 

“Pardon the intrusion,” he said quietly, before stepping inside. When the door closed behind him, he stilled, feeling frozen to the spot. 

Fareeha had moved to her kitchen, opening a cabinet and pulling out two glasses. She moved to another and pulled out a bottle of dark liquid. She motioned toward the couch in the front room as she poured. “You can sit down if you’d like.”

Hanzo paused only a moment, looking between Fareeha and the couch, before finding no obvious reason to not sit. So he sat, hands folded stiffly in his lap. After a moment, Fareeha joined him, passing a glass. 

“Thought you might need it,” she said, sipping from her own. 

Hanzo looked into his glass a moment, clasped in both hands. "I do not drink."

Fareeha shook her head. "Neither do I. It's tea. But less hot."

Hanzo couldn't help but smile. 

"Angela told me what happened," she continued, leaning back on the couch. “Jesse is an ass. Plain and simple.” She waved her hand at Hanzo's silence. “I’m paraphrasing. But it’s true. He silenced you.” 

“He--” Hanzo wanted to defend him, provide reasoning to McCree’s actions, but Fareeha beat him to it. 

“It’s okay. I know how much that can hurt.” She nudged him on the shoulder, her knuckles pressing into his skin. “Jesse’s always been selfish. I think it’s just the way he’s wired. He’s always had a hard time letting people in.”

Hanzo understood, but couldn’t stop the small part of him that ached to be let where others had not. To be the exception. “I have not been a part of this team very long, so there are still many things I do not know. However, I had hoped over time I could…” 

Fareeha sat her glass on the table with a definitive clink, and stood. She took his own glass from his hands, untouched, and set it down next to hers. 

Hanzo followed her across the room, scanning over a bookshelf before pulling a plain blue book out. She sat back down, flipping through the pages. It was filled with photographs. “I wasn’t very old when my mother brought me to this base. When my father left, there was no one to watch me. Overwatch became my babysitter, in a way.”

Fareeha pointed to an image of a child Hanzo assumed to be a younger her, standing alongside an older woman. “That’s my mother. Ana Amari. Jesse won’t admit it, but he learned everything he knows about shooting from her.” 

Hanzo stared at the picture, taking in the details: the way the sun seemed to leaves shadows across their skin, the trees green and tall behind them, the matching marks beneath their eye. 

Fareeha flipped the page. There were a few photos of people Hanzo didn’t recognize, but his eyes were drawn to the image on the far left. 

“That was taken not long after he got here,” Fareeha explained, sliding the photo from its plastic pocket. She looked at it a moment, as if remembering. “I think it was after one of his first missions with Blackwatch. Gabriel had been very proud.” 

It wasn’t hard for Hanzo to imagine. Fareeha handed the photo his way. 

“Here. You keep it.”

Hanzo felt overwhelmed by the implication of the offer, a piece of the past given to him so easily. “No. I should not--”

Fareeha sighed, grabbing his hand and placing the photo in it. “Just take it.” 

Hanzo turned the photo towards himself. The picture of McCree seemed odd to him, an image of a man he did not know. But even though McCree was younger, the grin on his face still held echoes of the smile that always seemed to catch Hanzo guard. His sense of style was still as questionable as ever, but his uniform looked more streamlined and mostly black. No serape, but his hat was ever present, looking newer and less worn. Hanzo wondered a moment if it was the same one he still wore now. 

He placed the photo on the table. “Thank you,” was all he said before noticing a small, clear case next to his glass. Fareeha followed his gaze, leaning forward to pick it up.

“It’s a CD. Not many of them around anymore.” She handed it Hanzo’s way. “A mixtape I made years ago. My mother hated me playing it.”

Fareeha let out a chuckle at the thought, and Hanzo accepted the case when it was handed his way, turning it over. “What is on it?”

“Only the best rock songs of every decade,” she replied, a glee to her that greatly contrasted the somber woman he remembered meeting a few weeks ago. “Do you like rock music?”

Hanzo shook his head. “I am afraid that is one of many things my brother and I could never agree on.” Nights of being awoken to blasting music and a persistent Genji flashed through his mind, his brother promising that he’d come around if he listened to this song or that band. 

Rather than be troubled by the mention of a more peaceful past, Fareeha only nodded in agreement. “Your brother does have very good taste in music.” She stood, snatching the case from his hand and popping it open. “Maybe we can pass that on to you.” 

Watching Fareeha cross the room to a stereo system, Hanzo couldn’t help but think of the last few moments as surreal. He’d never been able to truly sit down with Fareeha, not when he’d first arrived, and had always assumed she’d been uninclined toward casual conversation. Hanzo had never faulted her for that, but the smiling woman before him, holding up her thin CD with pride, made him wonder if he was to blame for the distance, having held himself back in a way that made it hard for others like her to reach him. He had been on base for weeks, and yet knew very little about anyone other than McCree and Mei. And even then, that was not much. 

Perhaps that was where he had gone wrong. Perhaps it was him who needed to be more honest, more open, before McCree could do the same. 

Perhaps he had been understanding the man all wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you can't tell, Fareeha will always be my rock n roll queen and no one can convince me otherwise. Also a tea junkie just like her mother (and me).
> 
> New chapters will update every Sunday and we're looking at about ten right now. So get ready.


End file.
